Disclaimer: The following story contains nonconsensual, sacreligious, and violent elements heavy in domination and sadism. Do not read if that is not to your taste.
The Priest
Mr. Mitchell sat back and looked at my first conquest in all his bound violated glory, broken, sweaty, and thoroughly penetrated. "Here we are," the driver opened the door and he got out, I followed. The thug remained, and there were agonized screaming sounds as the door was slammed shut. I noticed the sound sharply ended, I figured the limo was special, likely he had it set up so not a peep of the sick twisted goings on inside could be heard by anyone outside the vehicle.
I looked around, we were outside the city on a large property, I could see the city skyline in the distance behind a large art deco style complex, a large building beyond us and a smaller one to the right. Bold imposing lines lit by square outdoor lights stood tall and drew my eye in and up. The main building was two stories with a third story in the center section. The smaller building was one story with its own front door facing out to a large paved center area that connect to a path that led to us in a parking lot with a large garage on the far side. Thick dark manicured hedges lined the walkway and the rest of the large grounds was dotted with trees and was mostly cloaked in darkness, I noticed a towering wall surrounded the property and there didn't seem to be another property in sight beyond, just dense forest. Given what I had learned about Mr. Mitchell none of this surprised me. While keenly aware of how isolated I was, I continued to feel no malevolence towards me from the man. It may have been naive, or driven by desire for what he promised, but whatever it was I felt safe and increasingly excited.
He looked at me taking in the surroundings and after allowing me a moment began walking down the path, I followed. "I run my operations from here, and have several locations and businesses in town. My main business is what you have experienced, and I am in many other more acceptable businesses, chiefly security systems and various scientific and medical businesses." I remembered the video of the sexy young Mo in his underwear, and found myself turned on at the man's reach...and also mildly curious how he might use his twisted interest in straight men in his other ventures...he had clearly relished in the violation and objectification of that boxer. How sadistic did his interests go? How far was I willing to go to be mentored by my new friend? In the moment of passion I had been very open, and I was surprised to find myself just as open now. Then again Mr. Mitchell seemed to know about some of my kinks around bdsm...I figured he didn't just pick me up as a random chance find in that coffee shop. Surveillance...yep, he definitely looked into me first. Given the opportunity he was giving me I honestly didn't care.
He continued, "The main facility is where I stay and do most of my business, the guest house here," we arrived by the single level building, "is where you can stay tonight and whenever you want to come by." I looked on and followed him as he turned and walked to the right and unlocked the door to the smaller building, he entered and I followed behind.
The whole place was in the art deco style, I felt like I was in an Agatha Christie novel for sex crimes that went unsolved...I definitely hoped they went unsolved. We were in an entryway, and there were arches looking into a study or library, a dining room, and on the far side a living room area. He entered the living area and I sat down while Mr. Mitchell sauntered over to a bar and raised his eyebrows at me inquisitively, "Oh, I'll have a whiskey." He turned and poured two while I sat on one of two couches facing each other with a wide low table between them. He handed me a glass and sat on the other couch. He snipped and lit a cigar, puffed, and raised his glass, "To a new friendship, and to our mutual interests." I raised my glass and we both took a sip. He reached forward and knocked his cigar against an ashtray, "So what questions do you have, I'm sure there's a lot. For tonight let's stick to the topic of your future, your interests, and some aspects of your place in the business. You don't really need to work, like I said before, I just desired a friend to share it with. But if you want to join, for fun, in some of the work I would be happy to oblige."
I looked at my drink, then at him, "So...what work? The not 'acceptable' parts, what are they?" He smiled slyly, "Facilitating what you enjoyed earlier for the rich and powerful. So many have it in their heads there's people out for the innocent, but never consider it's straight cocky fuckers so many wealthy or powerful gays wanna violate. Ourselves included. Hell when it's personal, I have some straight clients that single out other straight guys they want to fuck. It goes back to the vikings, fucking the enemy. Asserting power. Making another man submit or suffer humiliation." I was very aroused by the idea of a society of men using the unsuspecting straight male population for sex, and the vindictive straight fucking straight image itself was a huge turn on.
"So you kidnap and sell...straight men." He nodded, "Mostly for sexual pleasure, but there are other reasons. Sometimes I'll get a request to eneact revenge but they don't even want to take part, they just want to know they put a guy at MY mercy. I have a reputation in the organized criminal underground...no monster or cartel member wants to even be threatened with MITCHELL." His eyes flashed satisfied amusement at being a threat. "Most of the action happens here, sometimes on site or at one of my other businesses or contacts, but those usually are more used by the...acquisition...business for snatching. Most of the fun stuff happens here." I sipped my drink, "So you only go for straight guys?" A puff of the cigar and a stream of thick blue smoke, "Yes. I am a gay supremacist of sorts. My view is that straight men are there for use to fuck and fuck like we would never fuck a gay man. Gays are for love...I myself have a relationship of many years. But I also have a predatory need to use a struggling fucker with a tight hole, and none tighter than my straight prey." Fucking hot, but it was kind of sweet his view on other gay men...it contrasted oddly with his clear predatory sadistic nature.
"Besides straight, what kind of guys?" He shrugged, "Whatever people want. College boys are most popular with the gay elites. All vary in demographics. I have looked into you..." I knew it, "...and you have varied taste. Really you can act like a quality assurance specialist, choosing who you want and what you want to do with them to give me business ideas, as well as just someone to enjoy a hobby with." I was so glad to have this new hobby, I would become a straight up enthusiast. "When it comes to tastes it usually depends on if it's just for fun or personal, the personal ones vary most. The sex cattle snatches are mostly eighteen to thirty year olds with nice bodies. Some want to break them in themselves, usually we just snatch, restrain, and deliver those. Sometimes," he lit up, "we get to train them for something specific. A guy wants a trained pup, pony, or bull slave. Clients want a man for a purpose. I usually want to know what that is to find them the perfect selection, or they have found the stud and we come in to get them trained for it. Some want a straight slab of muscle for other things...you'll mostly be enjoying the sex side." I smiled and had a sip, enjoying would be right, but I was intensely curious about what else straight men were being used for. I chose not to ask just now.
We finished our drinks and he promised to give me a tour of the main building tomorrow. He showed me around the guest building which was decently large, kitchen, bathrooms, sauna, private patio, and a bedroom. All were a cohesive art deco style, expensive, and pristine. Some details stood out, there were a few chairs with leather restraints incorporated, even most tables had some sort of shackles attached or full on part of the design. The patio had a thick wooden pole with shackles at the top and a spread bar at the bottom. The bathrooms had various water resistant restraints in the shower and bath and a conspicuous body cage next to the toilet...I could guess what that had been used for. In the bedroom there was an x frame with restraints, a cage, restraints on the bed, and all seamlessly fit into the style made of wood and metal, not black leather and chrome like so many bdsm objects I had seen. It crossed my mind to ask to stay permanently, but I would let us work together more first. It might be the anticipation for what lay ahead, but I loved the sharp left turn my life had taken.
"Any want or need you have just use the old school phones by dialing zero, they can decide if it is better met by house staff or business staff." He indicated a two wide closets on either side of the bed, "That one has a selection of clothing from your apartment, I hope you don't mind, but I'd like you to stay at least a couple days while you adjust so I took the liberty of getting them," I smiled knowing the locks and security wouldn't have been any problem, "and in that closet are pretty much all toys and non furniture related restraints anyone could want. Any straight entertainment you want for now will have to come from what I have available in the main building, there is nice choice in broken and unbroken, or we could do...order in fresh...starting tomorrow." I smiled, I liked that 'order in fresh.' I was turned on by all the talk...and I was curious about his options at hand. I said so.
He grinned, and walked with me to the computer on a desk by the window. He showed me an application labeled "facility stock." I sat and clicked. A popup with two buttons appeared one saying "broken" one "unbroken." I clicked "unbroken" and Mr. Mitchell let out a low chuckle. The page appeared with "profile" pictures, each a straight guy's ball gagged face with a name and age above. There were ten options, I clicked on a name that rang a bell, Carlos Ortiz. The picture was a early 30s latin man with an aztec nose, nice jaw, and a short trim beard. His dark hair was held by a white hand with a firm grip, pretty white teeth showed on a fat red ball gag, and his eyes were wide and confused. When I clicked the picture a profile opened "Father Carlos Ortiz." A priest, damn.
"I fucking remember him! He was in the news the day before yesterday, a priest stole charity funds and fled the country...only I guess he didn't." Mitchell made a clicking sound, "He did not. We can't have every pick end up just a missing person. Some creative accountants, tech nerds, and other friends make magic happen." I looked at the page, images from social media of the priest at the gym, at church, and traveling. All the gym pictures were in sweats with at best sla tight tee shirt with some sweat stains. But as I scrolled there were "processing" pictures and video.
Ortiz unconscious in his priest collar and black clothing on the floor of a windowless white room tiled floor to ceiling with a drain in the center. Video of him being stripped, body limp as the collar was slid out, the shirt unbuttoned. A tight belly and quarter sized nipples on a broad strong chest exposed. His torso was mostly smooth with just a trail of hair disappearing below the waist of his black slacks. Shirt removed to show strong biceps and forearms. Pants unzipped and boxers pulled roughly down to show an uncut Mexican cock of average size, flaccid, in a bed of curly pubic hair connecting to the trail up to his belly button. I liked how his genitals were a darker tone than the rest of him, which was a light brown sandy color. The pants were pulled down to his ankles and he was stretched out. Shoes and socks were removed before the pants could be completely pulled off. Soon he was completely naked. The video continued as he was held up under his hairy pits and photographed like that. They zoomed on his dark cock, uncut foreskin bunched up over his cock head, and pulled the foreskin back to expose a pink head.
Then he was laid down and flipped over to show a juicy round butt, lightly hairy along with his thighs and legs. He appeared naturally hairy below the belt and smooth above except for his pits and face. His legs were kicked open and the video zoomed in to show his ass, which was spread open to show a tight hairy hole. I was completely aroused and realized I was watching a video promoting a product...and the product hadn't even woken to realize what was going on...
He was gagged with the same fat red ball gag from the picture, wrists zip tied behind him, ankles zip tied, and a container was held below his prominent arched nose. He stirred, body moving and eyelids fluttering, still on his belly. His hair was gripped and he was held up like a trophy as he came around, and I realized he was being posed for the picture I clicked on originally. His eyes opened wide and a man took the picture and left the room. The men remaining then flipped him on his back, struggling as he came out of his stupor. One held his shoulders pinning his back against the ground, another lifted his legs up over him by the zip tie. Another moved to the side of the room and I noticed a kind of hose was moved to the center of the room, attached to the ceiling like a small version of what you see at a carwash. I noticed, the same time as Ortiz seemed to in the video, what it was for. He wriggled as it was lubed and slid in his struggling ass. He was being cleaned out. Readied for his new future.
I realized as he was cleaned, struggling and red faced as his anus was irrigated, that while this sexy young priest was effectively already a sexual toy and object to the men in that room, but he was still the confident priest from the workout Instagram pictures I had seen when I started. Even as his cock flopped while he was penetrated, a stream of water flowing down his taint into the drain below, he was an unbroken straight celibate catholic. As celibate as you can be with a hose up your tight ass...I wondered if he had been with a woman before he was ordained. I knew from Mr. Mitchell's strict "straights only" collection code he likely vetted this one...probably had checked his computer and made sure he wasn't one of the naughty priests, with any males of his congregation at least. So this was a rare straight masculine find for a man of the cloth...possibly virgin...
"I'll have this one." I said firmly. Mr. Mitchell pursed his lips, nodded, and asked smiling, "How do you want him?" I paused, I wanted to fuck him, but I realized he meant how did I want him positioned. I thought of the guest house and all the setups, and realized I could probably do anything I wanted with my evening entertainment. I got the distinct feeling that my new friend wanted me to play around with my interests. I gave it thought. "I want him stripped, he's "unbroken" so he will need to be restrained." He observed me and nodded. "I want lots of access to play...maybe have him on all fours?" Mitchell just looked at me, "That a question?" I laughed and repeated definitively, "All fours. Bit gagged. Stripped naked." He gave a half smile, "Done. Delivery in about thirty minutes. I'll go arrange things and leave you to it. Remember you have everything at your disposal and they'll put him wherever you want him. Have fun. When you're done get some sleep and I'll visit for breakfast tomorrow morning. When you're done phone 0 and give instructions for what you want done after. If you want him left there, moved, packaged somehow, or just returned to the facility. You CAN keep him, and keep him as long as you want. Up to you." He left swiftly and I was alone. I went to the entrance hall, sat, and waited.
There was a knock at the door and I answered it, standing there were three men nearly identical to the slab like thug from the limo. Two held a struggling Fr Ortiz, naked in the night, zip tied as he was in his video, this time he sported a bit gag strapped back in his mouth. His eyes met mine as he struggled with their grip tight on his arms, feet dragging behind as they came in. The third came in behind, "Where?" He asked. I had given it some thought, and decided to take the young priest in the living room. I could have my fun, be near to whatever I wanted from the bedroom supplies.
They worked swiftly. He was dragged into the living room and the table between two couches where I had sat with Mr. Mitchell earlier was moved away revealing a barely noticeable large square in the carpet, which was removed to reveal a hardwood floor with multiple metal bits. They looked at the naked priest and pulled up four to reveal they were retractable loop brackets. He was left struggling with one while the other two connected shackles to the brackets. He was held under his arms and lifted and dragged to be place belly down between them. The zip tie at his ankles was cut and two thugs held his ankles while he was on his knees and the other shackled them, then they all moved forward and his wrists were sliced free only for him to be forced forward with forearms on the ground and shackled again. On all fours he was bucking and making constant attempts to yell something that came out in a garbled gagged nonsense. I realized he had not had his mouth free once since being roused after his capture, as far as I knew. Without a word the thugs left through the archway and out the door. I was left with the beefcake, less confused than he had seemed in his processing videos and more a mix between frustrated and incredulous. I wondered if he thought it was a nightmare...I could make it one.
I left him and went to the bedroom, and strode to the closet on the left. I slid it open and saw everything imaginable, some I did not recognize. Each side of the closet had rows of shelving with different objects on each, gags, restraints, plugs, chastity cages, sounding rods, and some items I didn't even recognize like a kind of pear shaped plug with a mechanism on the back. Then on the wall were switches, whips, paddles, and some more sinister items. I surveyed and actively decided the pretty priest wasn't going to get it that bad...but I was going to play. I grabbed some items and returned to him.
He remained where he had to stay, on all fours shackled down, ass out, breathing heavily. His position had been selected by the team so he rested on his shins and forearms unable to move much from that position, he only had about a foot between his knees and elbows. This forced his juicy ass out and it was expertly set up. I entered and lay my chosen items on the ground in front of him and stood over them. His pretty brown eyes looked at them then he pathetically raised his eyes to me and whimpered. I am sure he had figured out by now some of the reason he was here. "Fuck you are a pretty one. I thought about going younger but the novelty of a priest being punished for running off with charity funds was too good." A surprised look replaced the pathetic one, I had lied. But I liked the mental effect of him thinking from this point on he was here for a crime he wasn't guilty of, unable to explain. I moved behind him running my fingers over a broad shoulder as I moved. He tried to jerk it away. I knelt behind him.
"You're not even supposed to touch your own cock are you, have to keep it all pent up?" I ran my hand up a muscular thigh between his legs and caressed his uncut brown cock, he made an indignant grunt and wriggled to evade me, but he was mine. I played with it, jerked it, while I rested my other hand on a firm hairy buttock and squeezed. "So pent up. You're supposed to be a virgin, I wonder if you are? My new friend likes to use the term 'sex cattle' for you straights, so I suppose you would be a cow prime for milking..." I took a break from his dick and moved back to his warm velvety scrotum and molested his balls, "these have some heft, yeah, you're full up aren't you?" He let out a frustrated grunt.
I moved to his shoulder and admired him, running my hands along his belly, up on his chest. I rubbed a soft nipple, and leaned in to his ear. I could hear him breathe and gripped his hair and held his head up. "Do you feel like livestock yet? You're on all fours. Naked. Bit gag in your pretty mouth. Surrounded by men who see you as something to be used." I admired the tight leather strap that secured the bit gag in place, it held a metal bit deep back between his molars with his white teeth bearing down on it, his lips stretched, tongue pink and moving with every sound he tried to make beneath it. He had tried throughout to speak and yell so many times a thin riverlet of saliva had come down from the corner of his stretched mouth, through the beard on his chin, and had made it down his throat to hang at his collar bone. He looked pathetically up at my unsympathetic face.
"Until now you've been treated like an animal, but really...you haven't behaved as one. But I firmly believe no man can cum if he doesn't want to. He might resist and get hard, but if he gushes cum...he had to access his inner animal. Let's see if I can help you access yours." He struggled and shook his head back and forth grunting protests as I returned to his backside. My hand went back to his cock hidden under his foreskin. I gently played, moving up and down his little udder, feeling it stiffen and grow. He would try to twist his hips, but in his position he couldn't do much other than feel my had warm on his growing manhood. I felt the soft velvet skin get warm and hot under my touch as it slid along the rod beneath it as it lengthed. I worked away and with satisfaction and occasionally caresses to his body it firmed to a thick seven inches, a pink cockhead peaking from the foreskin, beginning to swell. "This isn't taking much," I quipped, "I really think you have laid off pleasuring yourself, you're so sensitive. A horny straight virgin rock hard from any attention to a neglected dick."
He was breaking out in a sweat, his grunting was interrupted by the occasional moan as I played with him. The head swelled and leaked precum. I played with his hairy taint, pressing in with one hand as the other increased speed on his throbbing member. I was playing him like an instrument, and his body really was responding. His grunts became pathetic resistant whimpers and his breath quickened, belly heaving like he was tensing muscles...trying to hold back. I moved in and licked his ass, then leaned in and let my face land full against it, jaw forcing his cheeks apart and finding his tight hole. I rimmed and sucked and felt his tight bud with my tongue. I pressed in, moving with his pelvis, he may have been trying to resist but avoiding my assault on his hole made him play into moving his cock into my grip. No matter what he did he was stimulated. I came up for air and began jerking rapidly. He let out a desperate grunt, now slick with sweat.
I jerked and milked and his swollen cock head fully erupted from the sheath, swollen and wet. I slowed and sped up, kissing his sides tenderly, then running my tongue alone his side tasting his salty sweaty skin. Finally he tensed and his cock burst forth thick white semen, he bellowed. I milked it out, another rope of white and then oozing thick cum over my fingers and his cock into his pubes. Under his heaving muscle body I let his moist hard erection go and slap his belly.
I gripped it and played with the sensitive head, he yelped and I allowed some post orgasm torture, rubbing and stimulating his super sensitive head. He actually screamed as he thrashed his body, movement just making it worse. I went on for several minutes until he he shook and screamed. Once I stopped he just hung, emptied cock erect against his abs, head hung, spittle dribbling to the ground, his thick white mess beneath him.
I reached under and collected some of his spunk on my fingers, squatted in front of him, took his chin in my other hand, and forced his head up. His face was streaked with tears and spit, I took the semen and smeared it on his face, "Now you're a full animal. If I had to decide even with the milking you're more pig than cow. A filthy sex pig for gay men now. I think if you could be unordained...we just did it. In case we didn't, how about a fuck for penance?"
I stripped naked, sporting a large erection of my own after all the fun. I took a riding crop from the toys I'd brought in and used it on his ass, leaving a few welts and enjoying his yelps of pain. He let out a particularly high pitched one as I landed one right on his hanging balls. Then I tossed it aside and knelt down, and mounted him from behind. He shrieked as I went in raw, if I hadn't mentally broken him, a raw fuck would literally break him.
I thrust in and felt his tight warm virgin hole forced open and his soft insides against me. I forced in deep and reared back, then railed another thrust in. He shrieked, the poor bitch was shining with a full sheen of sweat as I mercilessly railed him. He felt fantastic, spasming against my hard erection, relentless thrusts one after the other tearing into him. I felt him shake and scream under my hands, resting on his slick sides. I leaned in and slid them up and under, molesting his nipples, humping him and enjoying his soft warm slick tensing back muscles against me. The position made my penetrations shallower and more forgiving, and he went from screaming to grunting until I pushed on his back and back into a kneeling position and reamed harder than I had before, easier now that he was loosening up and slicker. I wondered if I had torn him. The thought helped me reach climax and I shot a load up inside him. I shuddered and pumped as much in as I could, then slid out.
I wiped my cock against his quivering sweaty ass, hair matted to his skin with sweat. Some bloody cum trickled down from his ruined asshole and down a shaking muscular thigh. I took some tissues from a decorative box by the couch, plopped down, and cleaned off admiring what was left of Carlos Ortiz...a mass of sweat and muscle with his cum on his face and the floor and my cum up his ass mingling with his blood. That hole must have been throbbing hard, and it definitely had torn.
I rested and enjoyed the view of the broken in man, then thought about what to do next. He wasn't my first really, the boxer had been, but this one was more...mine. I felt possessive. I figured I'd keep him. At least for now. I picked up an old rotary phone and dialed "0." "Main facility, what can I do for you?" I gazed at my toy, head hung sobbing, "I've decided to keep Ortiz, could you send a team down? I have specific instructions..." I detailed my plans for what was to be done with him overnight and then the following morning. A team was sent down to take care of it, and I went to bed.
I slept more soundly than I had in weeks.
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